There is this hell inside me where the flames are mesmerising

it’s shape fits your outline

it grows and shrinks
                                            every time you walk in

walk out.



Tell you what

i’ll be the empty house

and you be the ghost


I’ll keep my favourite illusions about us in tiny glass jars

                                                           ­               (like portable mausoleums)


What do you want for dinner?
                                                         I'm leaving you


Shall we watch The 7:30 Report?

                                                        ­ You’ll never see me again

I’ve made your favourite dessert

                                                        ­ You can keep the house


Did you know you can be crying for years

and not even notice


The funny trajectory of feelings

They rise up      
you take note  

                                they fall away


some don’t fall away
becoming embedded in your bloodstream

and there’s my only enemy right there

inside me

and no matter how much I vacuum the cracks in the floor
my childhood just doesn’t change

but maybe
just maybe

if i do everything the opposite way i was taught i might survive


I thought you were the face of my survival
                                                                ­             (silly I know)
                                        
I thought you were my very own swashbuckling hero
like the one's dreamed up by Spielberg and Lucas

but after awhile getting your hopes up

becomes just another extreme sport

If only i had known

the best way to keep our romance alive
was never getting to know each other

Refunds for emotional disappointment should be a thing


and weddings
weddings should happen under water

the suffocating non-air
can break you in for your future

You’re working back again/What’s her name?

You know, there’s a freedom that comes with being forgotten actually

I can relax and become a mountain again
                                                           ­                 free of perfecting myself

to outshine your golden girls
all of them competing for the crown in your secret world

I would cry about it
but i bought 80 pairs of shoes instead

It will show up on your bank statement

dating a writer
is like guessing the weather.
you think you know what you'll get,
but you never do.

you never know
because

she'll create a hero
from your weaknesses

and she'll write a great character,
from every last flaw.

she'll create a thousand plots  
from your worst nightmares.

she'll take every last thing you hate
and create something you'll love.

she'll turn your anger
into confessions of adoration,

and she'll make you,
everything you're not.

but worst of all,
she'll leave you wondering-
is it you she's in love with,
or things she's created from you?

but here's the beauty of it:

if you date a writer,
you'll never die.